The Woeful Bell and the Huntsman
by OdileWasAGirl
Summary: Definite AU. SAM/OFC Sam meets Pepper through a series of unfortunate events. He decides to pursue a relationship with her, while keeping his life as a hunter secret. A little tale involving domestic/pervy Sam. Darker themes in parts 2&3.
1. Chapter 1

**TITLE** The Woeful Bell and the Huntsman  
><strong>RATING<strong> NC-17  
><strong>PAIRING<strong> Sam/OFC (Sam/Pepper)  
><strong>WORD COUNT <strong>4800ish  
><strong>SUMMARY<strong> Definite AU. A little tale involving domestic/pervy Sam setting up house with a young lady of his choosing, who has no clue as to what or who he really is. Mary Sue warning, if you don't like then don't read. Part 1/3  
><strong>COMMENTS<strong> This little ditty is pretty much just porny, pervy Samness…  
><strong>WARNINGS<strong> Adult content, will be spoilers through season six. 

**Fall**

They roll into town just as fall is turning forest bronze on the east coast. It's a picturesque New England town, charming stores peppered down main street, town folk preparing for the last tourist invasion of the year, while the trees fight to keep their tresses from withering in the nippy autumn sky.

171 W. Ichabod Lane

The Kingston household looks like a castle that should be made of ginger bread and gum drops. A three story Colonial house, framed via a white picket fence and moated by way of a well manicured lawn.

"Places like this always freak me out." Dean comments, pulling at the knot of his tie.

Sam just smiles.

Sam dreamed of growing up in a home like this. As a boy he imagined stable, safe families eating well balanced meals together in ghoul-free dining rooms across America…then he dad tossed him a box of hostess cup cakes into the back seat of the Impala and he remember those dreams were for other little boys with normal families.

They have to park blocks away from the targeted address. There's a steady stream of black-clad mourners making their way sluggishly up the front walk. Sam's glad they wore the suits, it seems more appropriate.

He feels as if he should have brought a casserole, or perhaps flowers. Anything to help him feel more reverent. They've been to plenty of wakes before, but the ones for children are always the worst - makes his gut ache.

There's a larger than life picture of the kid set up in the living room. A cheerful five year old boy, smiling wide and full of life. Sam idly wonders if they had the poster made at Kinko's and then wonders what that would be like to order a picture of your dead child to be blown up ten times full-scale. It's all so odd.

He doesn't want to be there. It's been months of close quarters and bad motel mattresses. He's had a dull head ache for a week now, a tender throb in his temple he thinks he might be able to sooth if he could just get a moment to himself, just an elusive moment of silence. One thing to himself.

Dean wanders off into the sea of dimly dressed faces and Sam makes his way into the backyard to have a look around. It's chilly, the light wind is blowing the chains on the empty swing set, making metal on metal noises that strike a chord, like a tolling bell for mortality.

He's by himself for quite some time, takes a seat and closes his eyes for a moment. It's a delicious second of peace he typically doesn't snag, that is until she bursts out the back door in a rush. Almost trips down the steps and sniffles as she steadies herself on the iron railing.

She's wearing a frilly little dress, something that a younger girl would wear to her confirmation, except this one is the color of burnt charcoal.

By the time she notices Sam she's already on her way to the picnic table where he's stationed. She looks at him hesitantly but sits down beside him. He thinks she's probably a knock out when her nose isn't running, all red-raw from crying. She rubs bloodshot eyes with her thumb and index finger, then wipes her nose again.

"Hey" she glances at him, gives him a good once over and tugs at the hem of her dress that's doing a less than adequate job of covering her legs. She's tall and her long legs are bare, growing tiny goose bumps up her thighs. He forces his line of sight back to her face where she's staring through him with a faraway look in her pink-raw eyes.

"I'm Sam." he offers gingerly.

"Pepper." She rolls her eyes, snuffs when she watches him smirk at the mention of her name, "Yeah I know, its ridiculous." she pants wrapping arms around her waist like she's has a sudden onset of cramps.

"Are you Ok?" Sam frowns, processing a hundred different thoughts that range from her obvious pain to whether Dean is making any headway inside.

"Oh yeah,…I'm just…you don't have to…my brother-" She starts, then stops just clutching herself. It hits Sam like a ton of bricks; she's the older sister, the person they came to talk to, the one who was there when it happened.

Sam's busy thinking of the best way to ease her into divulging the information they came for when she scoots closer to him and shivers. "I don't want to go back in there," she hiccups looking at the house, shaking her head as a rogue tear slides from the corner of her eye.

"I wouldn't either" he confides.

"It's so damn cold out here…here, move a little closer." She commands and Sam doesn't know what to make of her when she raises his arm up and wriggles against him. "I'm usually not this oddly confident, you must think I'm a nut job." She laughs though tears.

"It's fine, It is cold out…your mourning, I think you get a free pass for this one" He comments stiffly but drops his arm over her shoulders, cups her arm loosely.

"We had so much fun, he always loved my house." She wrings her hands, her face crumpling in that nasty way when there's too much pain, her cheeks blush even rosier.

"This hurts so bad" she whispers as if it stings to talk, then she cries, hard. Sobs into her hands so relentlessly that eventually she doubles over. Sam rubs her back cautiously, talks her back into catching her breath, and teaches her how to get air back into her lungs.

Sam glances at her knees - thinks about her legs. The charmingly soft looking skin is splotched red for the bitter autumn chill. Her skin looks olive, perhaps she's Italian or Greek or maybe she tans. That leads to thoughts of her sunbathing naked on Brazilian sand. Soft, firm breasts warm from the sun…

She hiccups a stifled snivel.

He feels like a tactless pervert.

He sits with her until the tips of his ears go numb. He thinks about how much it hurt when he lost…that raw throbbing in his chest he was convinced would kill him (for a while he wished is had). He wants to help her - doesn't know where to begin.

Sam tells her he's a private investigator. Makes up unnecessary details (insurance and medical malpractice) as to why he and Dean are there. She nods but he can see she couldn't care less, doesn't give a shit about anything other than her own nauseating grief.

He shivers when the wind blows, she feels him tremble and scoots out from under his arm. He thinks she's about to apologize for keeping him outside. Instead her eyes narrow and she groans: "I'm gonna puke"

She turns around, one final glance back at him as she opens the back door, "Thank you Sam!" she hollers as the door slams shut.

She's not at the funeral, so Dean stay there and he goes to find her.

Sam wanders on the front lawn of her parents house for an half hour, stomping dead leaves and trying to determine exactly what's wrong with him that he can't bring himself to knock on the door like a normal person.

After watching him pace through fallen leaves like a lumbering giant Pepper opens up the front door and calls out to him. "What are you doing?"

He tells her the truth, tells her he came back to check on her, that he can't stop thinking about her pain. She looks better than the day before, but her eyes are still red, lips remained chapped. She's still holding onto the Kleenex box like it might save her life.

Sam sits next to her on jack-o-lantern sheets in Wes' bedroom. She explains that he loved Halloween, Sam feels tenderly for her as she traces one of the pumpkins on his pillow. She pulls the pillow into her lap and press her face into it, a tear sliding down her cheek, "It still smells like him." she whispers, broken.

"Pepper, what exactly happened?"

She doesn't hesitate.

"He wanted me to read to him in the pile of leaves we raked in my front yard. Wes was nuts about this one book, The House of Boo, his favorite. So he sat in my lap and we read and then he just kinda, slumped back into me. I thought he was cuddling at first or maybe he fell asleep. They told me his heart just…stopped"

"Oh God." Sam mutters

"I never thought I'd have a little brother, no one did. I mean, I'm almost twenty years older…"

He decides it's better that she never knows what actually happened to Wes. There's no reason to tear her world apart.

Sam sees Pepper more or less every night for a month. After the first week she starts talking more and crying less. They go to dinner, to the movies, her sister's lacrosse games.

She's charming and delicate and witty. She makes Sam laugh. She's holding his hand while she dances and sings in isle at the midnight viewing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, the first genuine smile he's seen on her lips since he's known her. She's beautiful.

She's afraid of everything under the sun; spiders, big dogs, horror movies, meteorites hitting the earth. He can't help but feel a thrill run up his spine when she walks closer to him at night, finding a warm, safe place at his side, under his arm.

"So what about your parents? They don't seem very…run of the mill." Sam asks, watching her fork a bite of salmon. It's their fourth real date and Sam's over the nervous search for topics, he just asks the things he really wants to know. Figures even though he can't share the details of his own life, learning about her is the next best thing.

"They are an odd couple I guess."

"Where's you mother from?"

"Egypt, Cairo, she was born there, moved here with her father when she was a teenager. She's brilliant you know. Went to school for cultural anthropology at Yale, then Cambridge. She's done some amazing things in her life. She went back home to Cairo, lived with an African tribe, spent a year in the Amazon rainforest, things I could never dream of I'm sure. But she came back stateside to teach, met my father, the contractor and decided she wanted a family."

"Wow, she gave it all up?"

"She still teaches at the college, three classes a week. So how 'bout you Sam, any deep, dark family secrets?"

"Umm," Sam nearly chokes on his salad, chuckles awkwardly, wiping his mouth, "Well, my mom died when I was a baby, my dad moved my brother and I around a lot. Pretty much just your average dysfunctional family."

"Where's your dad now?"

"He died a couple years ago."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too."

She works up the nerve to sleep in her own house, first time since her brother died Sam stays with her. They spend most of the night in the kitchen talking about subjects that don't matter; chiefly their mutual love for The Waltons (the best TV show of her youth) and the board game Operation.

"My grandmother left me this house," she explains sitting next to him at the dining room table. "When I first moved in it felt like coming home."

"What's changed?"

Sam's ear perk up when she tells him she thinks it's haunted. "It's strange, Wes loved it here, he'd spend every Friday night with me…I still see him sometimes, you know. When I was here yesterday…it's like I could feel him. And I have these dreams…you probably think I'm nuts huh?"

"You never know." He nods, "But I don't think you're nuts."

Then out of the blue he kisses her for the first time, softly, just the press of his lips, unobtrusive and sweet.

She laughs against his mouth, pulls away and laughs out loud, Sam leans back, confused as she slaps a palm over her mouth. "I'm sorry," she shakes her head and reaches for his hand, "You just make me really happy Sam, that's all. I haven't felt like it was ok to be happy for a long time."

"I know what you mean." Sam smiles, goes in to kiss her again but this time he laughs too.

Sam thinks about her all the time. He talks about her all the time.

"Just get it over with and bang her already will ya?" Dean's rather disgusted by the rather mushy turn in his brother's behavior.

Sam fucks her for the first time in her living room.

He humps her on the front porch, fully clothed, grinding the bulge is his pants into the crotch of her jeans, all up against the front door until the neighbors turn on their porch light and Pepper reaches for the handle.

Once inside, they get as far as her couch.

She sets him up, takes the condom from him, rolls it on his swollen erection and then crawls into his lap. Sam just watches, making little grunts of approval when she reaches for his cock, whole hand around the base and guides the head of his dick into her. She screws her eyes shut, her soft hands grasping at his shoulder as she sinks down on him so slowly, inch by inch until her resolves falters and she plunges down, the tight heat of her taking him in.

He thinks she might be the prettiest thing he's ever seen.

Her whole body does an upward wave, as she whines something unintelligible, kissing him desperately.

"Oh God, Sam" she groans when he pulls at her hips, tightens her down on him. Sam can feel her stretched wide open, the most delicate part of her shivering on his cock and glances down to where he's sunk deep in her cunt.

They both start to move. She kisses him, breaths his name like a mantra while her curvy little hips work back and forth on his dick. Sam fucks up into her in sharp jabs, making her tits bounce, just grazing his chest as she her cunt goes from wet to sloppy, her slick leaking from around him and over both their thighs.

When he grabs her hair, angles her head back and sucks at her neck, she hums. Then when he flips her, she just whines out "Oh Sam…"

He spreads her open underneath him and fucks her. His hips make hallow smacks as he pumps into her fast. He doesn't say a word that first time, just listens to his own grunts, her gasps and the squishes, gooey sounds of sex that seem obscenely loud. It takes everything out of him to stay on task, every ounce of self control not to come like a kid on prom night before he's made sure she's satisfied.

Afterwards he cleans her up. He uses tissue from the end table and she watches as he methodically wipes her thighs clean before the delicate swipe of his fingers over the center of her sex. Then he holds her, soft nude thighs basking open and rubbing his hips. He tells her how much he enjoys her, he tells her that he hasn't wanted anyone as much as he wants her, in a long time.

He almost tells her about Jess.

When he wakes up the next morning they're still on the couch. The absurdly thin quilt he pulled off the arm chair is barely covering her ass and her warm, pretty body is pressed into him while she's breathing into his neck, still calmly in the lull of sleep. It's extraordinarily satisfying.

Sam thinks he could be happy…happy here in this house with her.

The time comes for he and Dean to move on. He's standing on her porch with his backpack slung over his shoulder trying to find the right words for goodbye when she takes his hand and says:

"Stay."

He does.

It's a puzzling process that happens when Sam's not looking. Before he even knows how to define what's going on between them he's living with her.

And then the first year passes.

**Winter - 12 months later**

After much consideration Pepper decides that Sam is definitely the most consistent liar of all time.

At first he hadn't been as easy to read. Between sweet smiles and soft words he cleverly directed her away from realizing that half of everything he told her was, at the very least, somewhat lie.

He's a painfully private person, she does her best to chip away at his facade, but it's a slow moving process. Every time she thinks they might be getting somewhere an all too convenient interruption springs up, like her mother or his brother or spur of the moment sex. Sam's a quick learner and knows from early on that she's can't keep her thoughts straight when he's slipping his hand up her skirt or nudging his dick in.

However, time passes and she gets better at reading him, more adapt than she lets on.

There are a series of oddities that she chooses to overlook, figures he's just used to certain way of doing things.

So she stops asking questions, she just pretends she's so interested in her book that she doesn't notice him lugging five pound bags of salt from the back door down to the basement. She doesn't say a word when she finds strange symbols drawn on the underside of all her door mats, or when he gives her a little charm to wear around her neck, same as the tattoo on his chest.

There are a number of things about Sam that completely confuse her, he's a conundrum, a mystery she's always a few clues short of solving.

"Sam, you don't have to go. You're not Catholic, the whole thing's in Latin and my father's going to be there…" her voice trails off as she laces up the buttons of her coat.

"I already have the suit on." He grins, searching through the front closet for an overcoat more appropriate than his usual wear. "First off I'm only a little afraid of your father and second, I don't mind. I kinda like St. Matthews. We should start going on Sundays, if you want."

"Really?" Pepper balks, searching through her pockets. "Do you have keys? I don't what I did with mine."

Pepper opens her eyes, glances at him during the recited the liturgy. Sam kneeling beside her, hand on his chest to shield his heart, eyes shut tightly, reciting the words from memory, as her uncle, Father Kingston, leads the mass Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa

"Sam," she leans into him as they sit waiting for the pews to empty. "How is it that you know a Roman Catholic Liturgy?"

"It's one of the first things I memorized when I was learning to speak Latin." he rambles absent mindedly, then his eyes go wide like he's just divulged a state secret to a cold war spy. "I mean, when I was a kid I, my dad-"

"Your dad taught you Latin? It's kinda funny I never knew that."

"Why you say that?" Sam's face ticks side to side, Pepper looks at the pulpit thoughtfully.

"Nothing, it's just my mom, she taught when I was kid too. Speaking a dying language doesn't help when you're already the weirdest kid in school."

"Strange school girl huh?" Sam beams a teasing smile, "Post hoc, ergo proctor hoc."

"After it, therefore because of it." Pepper's mother, Shohreh, emerges and sits down next to Sam, her coal black eyes sweeping over both of them. "Very good Sam."

Sam smiles, but he always looks at her mother like she's knows what he's thinking, like he's a bit afraid. He never admits to it.

After a year he still has trouble working her Tivo. However, when the lights in the house flicker for a week while he's away, some sort of random power surge that the repair guy can't figure out, Sam, well Sam fixes the problem by spending twenty minutes in the basement. No tools, no do-it-yourself pamphlet, just him and a flashlight.

Even though he's not catholic when she drags him to Mass he knows the names of every saint not to mention he has a bag full of rosaries she accidentally comes across when she sorting his laundry and he keeps a flask of water in the nightstand next to the bed.

Her mother puts things in perspective, "What do you think he is Pepper? A spy for the Catholic Church? He's just superstitious…and handsome and smart, sweetheart, you have to get over it, they don't make men like that anymore."

Pepper tells Sam early on that she doesn't want any of his "guns and whatnot" in her house.

It's a well established rule. He still tries anyway.

She finds his Mossberg hidden under the bed while she's searching for wrapping paper.

As soon as she hollers "SAM!" down the steps he knows he's in trouble.

"We've has this discussion a thousand times Sam!" She looks like a crazy person standing wobbly in the middle of the bed, wearing a Santa hat and holding the barrel of the shotgun. She's using socks to glove her hands like it's going to burn her if she has direct contact with the metal.

"Calm down, OK. We did, we have talked about it, but I just wanted to have something-"

"You know how I feel about these…these…weapons!" she makes a sour face and waves it at him, "Will you take this from me please. It's making me sick."

"Don't you think you might be overreacting just a little-"

"Not in the house Sam, and sure as hell not under our bed, for God's sake." she huffs indignantly, scrambling off the bed, doing the same kind of frantic dance she does when she walks face first through a spider web.

"But I feel better when I know where-" Sam stifles the urge to throttle her as she cuts him off yet again.

"This isn't Tombstone and you're not Wild Bill Hickok. You don't need a six shooter strapped to your hip when you're walking to the kitchen in your underwear Sam!"

"A six shooter?" Sam throws his head back, holding up the gun, it's the only part of the argument he can concentrate on. "This is a pump-action shotgun."

"Whatever! Name one reason you would need to have a shotgun laying around the house." She cocks her hip to side and crosses her arms.

Sam thinks.

Demons, ghosts, poltergeists, shape shifters, werewolves, disgruntled combatants "Home invasion happens all the time Pepper!" He hollers.

"Oh, come on Sam" She shakes her head like he's the biggest idiot in the world and throws her hands up. "It's just macho bullshit."

"I want to know that I can protect you if I have to!" He yells and his voice cracks. A true statement from Sam, although he doesn't mean for it to come out quite like a pubescent teen.

"You know I saw this thing on 20/20 that said a person is more likely to end up shooting themselves or a loved one instead of the robber. If we're being burgled I'd rather take my chances with 911. You hunt Sam, and you're not even very good at that! Who's to say what would happen if someone actually broke in. I mean it's not like a deer's going to come charging through the dining room windows and from the lack of venison you're bringing home on all those hunting trips I'm not even sure you can hit the broad side of a barn!"

He can't argue any further without getting into a whole other conversation he's not yet prepared to have. Sam frowns followed by a round of steel jawed frustration, rumbling under his breath as he runs both his hands through his hair and huffs a couple heavy breaths. He thinks about chaining her up in the basement and only letting her out for meals.

"Fine, I'll leave them in the shed." He forfeits in a thick, strained voice and lumbers off with slow resentful feet, like someone just stole his birthday cake.

That night when she snakes a thin arm under his shirt and over his stomach he curls away, turns on his side and tells her "Not tonight Pepper, I'm tired."

He swears he hears her giggle, it makes his face flush hot with irritation. Like he's going to have sex with her when she's being so blatantly unreasonable.

He thinks maybe he'll keep it up for a few days, let her know he means business. He'll make it clear that the whole firearm conversation is far from over. He falls asleep begrudging his own instinct and staying on his side of the cold bed.

In the morning when he wakes up he's pressed into her, arms and legs weaving around her from behind. His first thought is _boner_. He pulls back from her, wiping his eyes and look at the clock. It blinks back in angry red numbers, 6:22am. Sam's only half awake when he palms his erection through his sweats and Pepper's even less coherent when he tugs down her panties.

"Morning baby" she mumbles groggy, eyes still closed and head rolling to the side. She makes a little purring noise when he jostles her onto her back and slips his fingers between her legs. Checking. She's always a little wet, and this is no exception.

In the mornings Sam likes the slow, sleepy sex. He rolls heavy between her legs and yanks his sweatpants down enough to let his cock free. She still has her eyes shut when he pushes into her, watches her face tighten as her body stretches for him, perfect friction as his dick slides deep, makes his whole body go hot. He wishes she was naked but as a fair compromise pushes up her tank top and nuzzles her breasts, sucks thoughtfully at a hard nipple, before bracing himself, fucking her lazy and deep. She just sighs softly when at the feel of him.

He really enjoys the idea of fucking them both awake.

Sam pushes into her leisurely until her eyes blink open for the first time, grabs at his biceps with both hands, eyes batting wildly and moaning as her legs hitch wider for him. She gets a look at his face and her eyes fall shut again, tipping her head back, "God, Sam, harder please, please just a little."

"Yeah?" he grunts and pushes himself forward, just a little bit harder. He knows full well it's not enough. "Like that?" He urges and goes back to his relaxed pace.

"Come on, harder, Sam…" she drones, dragging out his name with her whine.

"Shhhh," he's teasing her, knows it drives her crazy. He grinds all the way into her, her body taking him deep and fucking her with sharp jabs, hardly pulling out, a couple rough shallow fucks that made her nails dig into his arm and then back to the slowness of before. He can feel her wriggling under him, frustrated and needy.

"Please," she begs again but then resorts to bargaining, the kind of words that get him every time "I'll be good for you, just the way you like it. Want you to…" He thrusts into her harshly, her eyes burst wide and she shrieks his name with the ach of her back. "Sam, just like that, Jesus…like that, like that."

He gives it to her just the way she wants and grits into her ear "Like that?" Pepper makes frail, muted whispers, little noises that get stuck in the back of her throat. Sam flushes when she makes those sounds, loves those sounds, his whole body starts to hum hot and generates this feeling of power like he's strong and big and she can't live with him.

He can feel her hands at his back now, pulling him down to her. Her body rocking with him, still waking up but wanting more. He gives her what she wants.

"So good like that" she whispers as she comes apart around him, pulsing and pulling as he hurries to his own end.


	2. Chapter 2

**This story may become 4 parts instead of 3. Just an FYI.  
><strong>

**Part Two**

Pepper loves Christmas, therefore the entire house is lit up like the north pole. There's garland, white string lights and baked goods as far as the eye can see. This year things are over the top due to Sam being gone for the better part of three weeks. It leaves her ample time to make whip up enough cookies and pies for a small army. As usual he only gave her vague details about his work. He told her it was a high priority case, nothing to worry about, just time consuming surveillance and lots of research.

What little she knows of private investigation she's gathered from episodes of Cold Case Files and late night reruns of Magnum PI. From what she can tell Sam and his brother seem to be fairly good at what they do. Dean doesn't seem like a "canvas the neighborhood" kind of guy so she wonders what precisely what the job entails. She's a bit naive but not a Polly Anna by any means. Sam lies, Pepper ignores it.

Pepper's always had an overactive imagination. She fills her days with holiday decorations and distractions to keep mind from wandering to thoughts of Sam sipping cocktails in a smoke filled bar with a busty brunette or being shot in some back alley speakeasy Dick Tracy style.

She says the same thing to him every time he's leaving, "Try not to get plugged by a mobster, kay?"

He gives her the uniform Sam grin of amusement and chuckles. "I'll do my best."

.^.

It's one week before Christmas, nineteen days since Sam left and sixteen hours since last he called. She glances at her cell phone, just to make sure it's still working, and then turns back to her kitchen counter where she's in middle of the mixing the crust for her third and forth pie of the day. A five pound bag of flour has just slipped from her hands and exploded in a cloud of white poof when she hears a key in the front door.

Sam stands in the foyer taking stock of the decorations, the house looks like a ridiculous department store display complete with holiday jingles playing softly in the background. He's never been a Christmas spirit kind of guy but Pepper said she was having none of his bad attitude and apparently she means it. "Hey, are you home-" he starts to call out to her, dropping his backpack to the floor where a two foot tall battery operated Santa begins singing: you better watch out, you better not cry…

"Sam!" Pepper is suddenly in front of him, her socked feet sliding to a halt on the hardwood. "Hey!" a wide and happy smile spreads quickly over her face. She is sight for sore eyes. Standing there in front of the staircase in nothing but a pair of white socks and one of his button ups, which fits her more like a oversized dress with the sleeves rolled up above her elbows. The hem of the shirt hits her mid-thigh and he's never been happier to see someone forego pants in life. She's dosed in some unknown white power.

"Did you develop a cocaine problem while I was gone or are you baking?" Sam smirks as she looks down at herself and laughs.

"Baking, attempting to anyway." She takes a step toward him and her brow furrows. Sam immediately wonders what she's looking at until he realizes it's his face.

"It's just a black eye, I'm fine. Honest." He holds his hands palms up in her direction. It's better to start reassuring right away before she gets a chance to get too worked up.

"Your eye is swollen half shut." She bites her lip, getting close enough to peer up at his bruise.

"I'm fine." Sam reaches out and pulls her into an embrace. She melts into his chest forgetting her concerns about his shiner and wraps an arm around his waist.

"I missed you." Pepper mumbles into his shirt and then he's kissing her. Her wonderful, soft lips are on his, two small hands on either side of his face, pulling him down. She hums excited when his tongue finds hers and she reaches up for his shoulder pulling herself enough that he gets the fact that she wants to be picked up. Her legs are around his waist before he can think, grinding into his stomach. He surveys the room looking for the closest piece of furniture to set her down.

He entertains the idea of fucking her up against the wall, but instead moves toward to the small table just inside the front door. He sets her down, the moment her ass touches the table her hands are reaching for his belt buckle, still sighing eagerly into his mouth as he kisses her with teeth and tongue. Sam jumps when she yanks down his boxers enough to let his dick pull free and stand at attention in her grasp. He wastes no time pulling her panties down her legs and then it's a mad scramble as they both move at the same time, Sam pulls her thighs apart, skin is warm under his hands but doesn't distract him as they both breath hard and heavy until he's pushing the head of his cock into her and everything goes silent.

Sam slides home and screws his eyes shut for a moment in an attempt to not pop before he even starts, there nothing but silence for a split second then he bottoms out. "Sam, Fuck" she hisses and he opens his eyes and looks at her face twisted in lust and he starts to move. Long, rough strokes that make the flimsy table wobble, but make Pepper moan and whine like he's never heard her before.

She comes quick and easy, doesn't even take a touch of his fingers, just the stutter of his hips and she's pulsing around him, saying his name in short breaths. Just the idea of her coming from nothing but his dick is enough to send him right behind her, popping hot inside her.

Sam looks down at her to find her looking right back and he chuckles as she drops her head to his chest and pants, then laughs right along with him. "I missed you too."

.^.

Three days before Christmas, Sam takes Pepper downtown so she can pick up a few last minute gifts.

They have dinner at The Bull's Head. It's more of a biker bar than a restaurant, but they have the best fried clams in the state. While she was growing up it was her father that took her here. Sipping a beer, while his daughter shook her pigtails to the beat of Rush on the jukebox.

These days it's the same music on the stereo, just a different man that drives her there.

"Go in and grab a table, I'll be right there." Sam urges, his hand is on the small of her back, nudging her inside. His cryptic phone calls are nothing new.

She watches him through the window. Sam paces back and forth across the gravel parking lot. There should be snow on the ground, but instead it's just an ice cold, New England winter. Sam's snorts angry puffs like heavy smoke into the air. He looks pissed, lumbering like a grumpy giant, complete with displeased grimace and brooding shoulders. She wonders who he's talking to.

He looks over his shoulder, as if someone would be watching him and heads inside. "Everything alright?" Pepper asks.

"Oh, yeah." He nods his head confidently, giving her the patented Sam Winchester smile. "Just Dean."

"Oh." She flashes a grin and turns her attention to Coke in front of her. He may think all it takes is a flash of her pearly white but she's been sharing a house, and a bed with him for a year. His eyes are always the tell. Sam can lie like champ but she always knows and for a reason unknown to even herself, she never calls him out. But now she knows fact from fiction.

She knows his lies. Maybe it wasn't Dean on the phone. She wonders for a split second if Sam has another girlfriend somewhere else. Maybe that's the real reason he's gone so much, why he never tells the truth. She dismisses it immediately but the thought nags at her. She can put up with a lot In the name of being in love…but eventually something has to give.

"It's been a while since we had clams." He playfully knocks her foot under the table, this time the smile Sam gives her is one hundred percent genuine. As usual the right look from him is enough to let her suspicion melt into the background.

"I know. Too long, can't let this happen again." The waitress brings beer, then food and they spend on a normal, happy evening in each other's company.

Later, they're walking gloved hand in gloved hand on the pier, when a scrawny kid with rosy red, pock marked cheeks steps out of nowhere. It feels like slow motion, takes time to register that he's waving a gun in their direction.

"Give me your purse!" the kid yells hoarsely at Pepper and his voice cracks like a scared little boy. "You too, your wallet." The kid motions to Sam.

Sam can feel Pepper frozen like a statue beside him and as he turns to look at her the mugger begins to panic at her lack of compliance. The kid points the pistol at Pepper's chest and Sam reacts the only way he knows how. He lunges forward, the guns discharges, firing into the pavement, but then it's one smooth move before he's disarmed and on the ground. The kid ends up handcuffed to a gurney, in the back of an ambulance, with a broken arm.

Sam gives a quick and succinct statement to the police. Pepper doesn't say a word. She stands beside him, pressed into his side, under his arm as he speaks for the both of them.

Pepper is silent as she sits tacit and stiff in the passenger seat of his Taurus. She has her eyes locked out the front windshield and stays seated as he parks the car in the driveway.

They both start to speak at the same time.

"Pepper are you OK, because you haven't said-"

"I can't believe you did that you could have-"

Sam falls silent as she turns toward him, she blinks forcing fat tears down her cheek and Sam feels a pang in his gut. He hates to see her cry and knowing it's because of something he had a part in is even worse. He waits for her to fall apart. Instead she takes a deep breath and composes herself.

"I thought you were gonna die." She states calmly. "I heard that gun go off and I thought he'd shot you."

"Believe me, if I end up getting shot it's not going to be by a first time mugger." He smiles to himself and then immediately wants to take back his words. She's confused, terrified and looking at him with wet eyes.

"What does that mean Sam?" Pepper shakes her head and anger flashes hot in her eyes. She rarely gets angry, it scares Sam for moment. "So this was, like, a run of the mill occurrence for you? Wrestling a gun away from someone? Jesus Sam…"

"No, I didn't mean it like that. I didn't…" He shifts in the seat, leaning toward her in an attempt to somehow make this right. Help her to understand. "It's just that Dean and I have seen a lot of things, we've been in the middle of worse situations and I know how to handle myself. I would never had gone for that gun I thought there was chance someone would get hurt."

"I was really scared." She looks to her lap where she's ringing her hands together, "I love you. You know that right?"

She glances at him with trepidation, waiting wide eyed for his response. They've been together over a year and it's the first time she's said those words.

Sam takes a pregnant breath. "I know. I love you too."

"Good." She whispers and leans toward him. He awkwardly hugs her as best he can through their puffy winter coats.

.^.

"What about your brother?" Pepper asks sucking syrup of her thumb and passing Sam a bowl of sweet potatoes.

"Terrible idea." He replies succinctly, accepting her offering and spooning a mountain of onto his plate.

"Come on, just a day or two. I don't know him at all, you only let me meet him once."

"Dean is just…he's Dean and he's a lot to handle. That's all"

"I'm a big girl. I think I can handle it."

"It's really not a good idea Pepper."

"Why is it such a ridiculous idea that I get to know your brother. What, are you hiding some deep dark secret."

Sam tenses for a split second but plasters an amused grin on his face. "Nothing worth knowing."

"I just wish sometimes…I wish you'd tell me the truth baby. Even I get sick of stories after a while."

They don't speak for the rest of the night and Sam sleeps on the couch. In the morning Pepper wakes him up with soft hands running through his hair and the smell of fresh coffee. They don't talk about the conversation the night before, ever. Instead she acts like nothing happens and Sam's grateful.

.^.

It's warmer than usual for March in New England. Then again there's hardly been any snow all winter so everyone chalks it up to the effect of global warming and moves on.

At first the news reports seem like any other random violence, but it gets progressively worse. Things start happening all over the world. There are floods and earth quakes and hurricanes. She gets scared. Sam tells her to stop watching CNN. But Pepper's a smart girl, she's seen him reading the paper and taking notes. She knows he's seeing the pattern too.

.^.

Sam leaves for a job with his brother. Packing a bag and being gone for a week is nothing new but his attitude leading up to the departure is what worries her. In the weeks leading up to the big job he's distant, not that he isn't always painfully hush-hush about the majority of his life but she knows it something different. He's looses the light in the eyes when he smiles at her, she can see his mind wandering a thousand other places, trying to work out whatever it is bothering him.

The night before he leaves, he eats his dinner silently, stealing despondent glances when he thinks she's not looking. She's watching him shovel a fork load of green beans into his mouth when she feels it; something almost undetectable, a flutter in her stomach that sets her on edge. She shifts in her chair, pushing her potatoes around her plate thinking about the feeling of dread that's somehow passed from Sam to her without consciousness.

Pepper wonders if he's planning to leave her.

They spend the evening on the couch in the living room, Donnie Darko is playing on the television but neither of them pay much attention. Sam sits next to her, leaving enough room between them to fill an ocean. By nine-thirty she's convinced herself that he is indeed planning on breaking it off. It's the only explanation.

Warm, reassuring Sam is somewhere else now, the Sam sitting next to her is hard and cold. A person she doesn't recognize.

She starts to cry, a single tear sliding down her cheek. She mutely wipes her eyes, feels Sam shift beside her.

"Hey" he mumbles, then all she feels are his arms around her, holding her tight, too tight but it's not unwelcome. He's hardly touched her for the better part of two weeks. He scoops her easily into his lap and Pepper pressed her face into the hot skin if his neck, breathing in his smell, tries to memorize it. In case it's the last time she gets the chance. "Don't cry." He mumbles at her shoulder, squeezes her even tighter and she squirms at the pressure.

"Are you leaving?" she whispers. Doesn't want to hear the answer.

Sam snuffs, pulls her shoulders back so she has to look at look at him. His eyes are wet. "For a little while." Pepper's body goes stiff, panicky, and she shakes her head feverishly.

"No, Sam, no," she stutters, pawing at his face, "Did I do something? Whatever it is I can-"

"Shhh," he hushes her, his eyes are painful to look at. A broken stutter as he implores her to listen. "It's not like that. I'm not leaving like that, not leaving you. There's something big coming, I can't explain but I can't be with you while it's happening. You'd be in danger. I won't do that. I can't"

"Sam I don't understand, what's happening?" Her eyes are big and wide. He wants to split himself open and tell her everything. He wants to tell her about Jess, about his dad…about hell on earth.

"I know." He replies quietly.

That night he makes love to her slow and sweet. She barely makes a noise, instead she kisses his lips again and again as he moves inside her. Sam holds her afterward, her face resting on his collar bone. He can feel her breathing unsteady as their fingers braid together. Hands stroking and moving leisurely with meaning. He whispers gently words of love and commitment that make even more tears fall. He tells her he loves her and that home is not a place for him anymore. Home is with her.

He leaves before sunrise the next morning. He's careful not to wake her, he doesn't think he could he resist her pleas to stay. He thinks about running away. It's a fleeting thought as he kisses her shoulder, rolls off the bed and walks out the front door.

Sam knows he might never come back.

**Four Months Later**

Pepper sits on the cold, off white linoleum of the kitchen, a joint in one hand as the Fiona Apple croons from the stereo through the night and drifts impossibly inside her head.

Most night since he left she spends in a bath with a book and a bottle of wine. A whole bottle of wine. But tonight there's something oppressive about the way her loneness is suffered. She takes another hit, wipes the sweat from her forehead, contemplating the long trek upstairs to bed when she hears it.

The key in the front door.

By the time she rounds the corner from the dining room into the entry way he's standing like a looming giant. Her breath catches and he looks up to see her.

"Oh god." She gulps, one hand covering her mouth.

It's not just his beaten face, or the fact that he looks like he's been up for days, dark circles and bruises blending together. There's something else. Sam looks up at her with threatening eyes, dark eyes she's hasn't seen before. He twitches his shoulders, then steadies himself. She can smell the liquor wafting off him, the pungent smell of whiskey and bar smoke permeating the room.

Pepper doesn't move. She stands and watches him watch her. For the first time since she's known him he's scaring her. He's terrifying. He looks like he could tear someone in half.

He lists to one side, and she involuntarily jumps, recoils. He reacts liked she's slapped him.

"I should go." He nods with a disgusted smile on his face. His voice is almost unrecognizable, it sounds like a memory of Sam now laced with venom and betrayal. He gives her a dismissive look and swings himself toward the door.

"No Sam," She pleads instantly, her voice breaking like shattered glass. He reaches for the doorknob and Pepper scurries up behind him, grabs his arm and he pitches back around, snaking his arm from her grasp, his eyes lit up, wild. For a split second she's sure that he's going to slap her, but he clenches his jaw and lets out a deep sigh.

There's a spark of confession. Pepper is suddenly hyper aware that he's reading her reactions like an open book. He knows she's afraid of him. She steps closer, bridging the gap so there's hardly room to breath between them. Sam's ticks his jaw.

"Don't' go." She whispers simply.

The silence that follows is horrifying. She's confused and scared. She can't imagine what's happened that he would return to her like this. Before this her worst fear is that he wouldn't come back to her all, but now it's clear that something much worse has already, or is about, to happen.

His eyes flutter to the side, hiding from her and he speaks, utterly deadpan, "Dean is gone."

Her mouth falls open, she intends for words to come out but instead a muffled oh escapes and then he lunges at her. There's a chaotic moment of confusion. She feels like a freight train comes at her head on, knocking her breathless. She blinks, her mouth open in a gasp, then comes the realization that he's picked her up. He hitches her thighs around his hips with one hand splayed under her ass and the other crushing around her back with a vice grip.

His mouth covers her own like a hungry animal, nothing gentle or loving. Just the painful scrap of his teeth and almost violent crush of his mouth. It seems like he's taken two steps but somehow they're upstairs, in the bedroom.

Sam smells like blood and dirt and day old whiskey.

She's naked in a heartbeat and then he's pulling her into his lap with a vice grip. She goes willingly.

He fucks her so hard it hurts. She has to do nothing other than comply as he flexes his hips up and pulls her down at the same time, surging into her in a single thrust that knocks the air out of her chest as her eyes burst wide. She's too tight and unprepared, bares her teeth and whimpers as he stretches her wide without warning. Sam's tongue tastes like sour mash against her own, she opens her mouth wider to take as much of him in as wants. She makes another strangled noise as he moves her on his cock, snapping up into her fast and rough until her cunt begins to slick enough that it become a little less about pain and more about the conflicted mix of pleasure and dominance that swells like raw heat in her belly.

Sam grunts and puffs into the hollow of her neck, sounding like he's about to explode. "Sam," she struggles, somewhere between a plea for him so slow down and begging for him not to stop at same time. He snarls at the sound of his own name.

He flips her swiftly, bending her in half with his arms hooked under her knees and grinds back into her so deep so she claws at his shoulders, muttering indiscernible words as he lifts his head to looks at her.

There's a fleeting moment when she see meets his gaze and then like a trigger has been pulled she comes. She comes like a force of nature, whole body pulsing, pinned under the full force of Sam's weight and feeling every inch of where he's moving inside her.

She falls lax under him as it rushes over her and then as her raw nerves begin to frey she can hearing clearly the slap of his hips as he continues to fuck her earnestly, pushing into her with fierce need until the last, harsh thrusts push him over the edge. He presses his face into her check when he comes, popping hot inside her and crying out, stifled, until the pitch of his body stops.

Pepper lays motionless beneath him, caged by his body until he catches his breath and lift himself up enough to free her legs and pull out.

He slides defeated to her side, half on top of her with his face pressed into the pillow beside her head. His breathing slows and just when she thinks he's asleep he turns so that his mouth touches the shell of her ear. "I'm sorry." He whispers.

"Don't be." Is all she has. It seems to be enough. She has no idea what to say to him. He's been gone for over a month, comes back drunk, bleeding and tells her his brother died. She has no idea where to even start. Or if she should.

Sam's still for a long time, but follows her when she heads for the shower. Silently lathers his hair, then hers. By the same she towels herself off he's already changed the sheets and is half asleep on crisp linen.

The next morning he eats her out until she's crawling up the headboard. After, he holds her, kisses her softly and tells her how much he missed her, and loves her and she's all he has now.

Everything changes after that morning.

He tells her he has to work, that it's the only thing that can take his mind off Dean. It's not the work that she minds, it everything else that seems to come with this new Sam. He leaves for days at time without telling her, doesn't call, just comes home drunk and angry.

A few weeks pass and things are worse. He eats the food she cooks, sits next to her while she watches late night TV, and fucks her almost every night he's home but there's no affection.

He's broken and she feel lost and helpless. She has no idea where to even begin because he won't talk to her, won't tell her anything about how Dean died, or even where he's buried. He just glares and shakes his head like she's on dangerous ground for even bring it up.

For the next several months he comes and goes as he pleases. Pepper doesn't try to stop him.

He stops drinking, comes home after a long stint away with a fresh, clean face and some kind of steely new determination.

And then one day he tells her something completely unexpected over pizza and beer. "We thought there was accident, when Dean was hurt. We couldn't find his body. But it turns out he's alive. He's been a hospital in Orlando all this time. Can you believe it?"

No, she really can't believe it but she doesn't tell him that. "Wow baby, that's amazing. A miracle. We have to go see him."

Sam smiles wide and his eyes light up. She feels her stomach drop. In her mind the same phrase keeps replaying…_.the beginning of the end…._


End file.
